So in a rush I fired off an email to my boss, grabbed two hard-boiled eggs, dashed to the car, and tried to get to work as quickly as possible. A few blocks down the road, with two hard-boiled eggs sitting in one of the little dashboard cubbies, I realized I had no way to shell and eat those eggs without something to put the shells in. And then I sneezed.
But I didn't *just* sneeze, like a normal person. No, I tried to stifle it. Tried. Didn't. But. Tried. And proceeded to blow snot out my nose like some sort of booger-Vesuvius, causing nose-Romans to look up in shock before ending their nasally lives without warning.
Frantically, I looked around the car for something to get the stuff off my face that had so recently been inside my face. Oh, curse the fates that I'm marrying an OCD woman who can not abide even the rumor of a mess - for there were no extra fast-food napkins tucked into a cup holder. There were no tissue boxes. No used tissues tossed carelessly on the floor. Nothing. Except for one fancy envelope in which we'd received a wedding invitation. Thick card stock paper, heavy and stuff.
It would have to do. But it wasn't even slightly absorbent, so just wiping my nose (and cheeks and upper lips...) wouldn't do the trick. Drastic measures - more innovative, dynamic solutions were called for. Ye Olde Farmer's Snot Rocket.
Reasonable people (who are reading this far, and that's a small venn-diagram intersection right there, I admit) realize this is a poor idea. But in my defense, reasonable people probably aren't driving in traffic covered in sticky snot. So I tried it, cupping the envelope in my hands, and taking my other hand off the wheel at a red light to plug the opposite nostril. Surprisingly, it kinda-sorta worked. Enough at least to warrant an attempt with the other nostril, which also improved, to some extent, the situation.
After some awkward nose-pokings with a very stiff envelope, I was sufficiently cleaned up to...pass for someone who doesn't need to wear a helmet while not on a bike. (Parse that sentence, grammar-fuckers!) But I still needed to eat those eggs, right?
So yeah. I sure did. I shelled those hard-boiled bastards and put the fragments in my snot-rocket containment vessel.
Which, OF COURSE, fell on the floor, up-ended, and scattered booger-enrobed eggshells all over the driver's side floor.
I am seriously dignified.